


Always My Reckless One

by stardropdream



Series: Primal-Hearted [2]
Category: Voltron: Legendary Defender
Genre: Alien Biology, Anal Fingering, Anal Sex, Biting, Blow Jobs, Bottom Keith (Voltron), Bottom Shiro (Voltron), Established Relationship, Facials, Finger Sucking, First Dates, Hand Jobs, Insecure Keith (Voltron), Love Confessions, M/M, Marking, Multiple Orgasms, One-sided Adam/Shiro (Voltron), Plot What Plot/Porn Without Plot, Porn with Feelings, Possessive Keith (Voltron), Possessive Sex, Praise Kink, Pre-Kerberos Mission, Purring Keith (Voltron), Secret Relationship, Size Kink, Switching, Top Keith (Voltron), Top Shiro (Voltron)
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2020-07-03
Updated: 2020-07-03
Packaged: 2021-03-04 21:07:26
Rating: Explicit
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 1
Words: 15,690
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/25052887
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/stardropdream/pseuds/stardropdream
Summary: After getting together, Shiro and Keith finally go on their first date. After getting caught kissing goodnight, some of the strange behaviors from Keith (the yellow eyes, the purring, the claws) that Shiro can't explain only escalates. But then again, Shiro's pretty into it.
Relationships: Keith/Shiro (Voltron)
Series: Primal-Hearted [2]
Series URL: https://archiveofourown.org/series/1778347
Comments: 81
Kudos: 381





	Always My Reckless One

**Author's Note:**

  * For [animelover2day](https://archiveofourown.org/users/animelover2day/gifts).



> Fic request for [Amber](https://twitter.com/sheithlover2day), who asked for a continuation on the prekerb Galra Keith fic! This time we have a heftier word count and a first date! 
> 
> I think you could be able to read this fic without having read the first one, but likely it'll provide important context. Then again, it is mostly porn so like... you do you, fam. ♥ This fic goes a little canon divergent, since in this series Adam/Shiro was never a thing (hence the one-sided tag listed). 
> 
> Regarding the "choose not to use archive warnings": The fic does not explicitly state in any way whether Keith is of age or underage. Take care of yourself! 
> 
> (And thank you to [Meg](https://twitter.com/kedawen) for the beta read, as always!!)

Shiro checks his PADD again with a frown when he sees that Keith hasn’t messaged him back since the last one he sent: _Running late, be there soon_. Keith’s absence isn’t a reason for concern, necessarily, but it _is_ unlike Keith. They’d planned to do a quick sparring session before their date tonight, but about twenty minutes into waiting for Keith, Shiro’s uncertain there’ll be enough time— or even what’s held Keith up. 

Shiro heads towards the cadets’ quarters, intending to swing by Keith’s room and make sure he’s okay. It’s not like Keith to stand Shiro up, especially not sparring. 

Ever since their last sparring session got a bit out of hand, they haven’t actually had a chance to exercise together. With the lead-up towards Kerberos’ launch, Shiro’s been in a revolving door of physicals, tests, trainings, debriefs, and the like. Keith’s ramping up for finals, too, so he’s been plenty busy pulling late-nights in the library. Keith’s brilliant and hardly needs to study, but when Shiro asked him about it, he’d just stared at him and said, _I need to be ready to pilot with you once you get back._

Regardless, they’ve made the plan for their date tonight— their first date, actually— and Shiro’s excited for it, if nervous. He and Keith are definitely doing things backwards, considering the ratio of sex to dates, but Shiro’s ready to amend that and treat Keith right. He knows Keith’s never really been on a date before, either. 

Shiro’s dressed down in his casual clothes now, since it’s near the time they were going to head out towards their date, and he only hopes that Keith’s ready to go and not having second thoughts. Keith isn’t the type to blow him off, not when he’s been excited to go on a date, but Shiro also knows just how much Keith can get nervous around other people. 

That’s Shiro’s last thought as he turns the corner and spots Keith down the hallway— arms crossed, shoulders hunched, and looking about two seconds away from punching out another cadet sneering at him. 

“Fuck off,” Keith growls. Outright growls. That sets off enough alarm bells for Shiro to walk briskly down the hallway towards them. 

“Hey,” Shiro says, calling out to the two boys. “What’s going on here?”

“Speak of the devil,” he hears the cadet say, although Shiro thinks he wasn’t supposed to hear it. He turns to Shiro with a banal smile. “Nothing, Lieutenant. We were just talking.” 

Keith has turned his face away, gripping his arms tight, his hair falling in his eyes. Everything about him screams upset and pain and Shiro’s heart aches to reach out and hold him. But Keith’s been clear from the start that they have to stay professional in public— that they have to keep their relationship a secret. 

So Shiro smiles the iciest smile he’s ever sent someone else. “Well,” he says. “I need to borrow Keith for a while, so you’ll have to finish your conversation later.” 

“Of course,” the cadet says, looking stricken before he rights his smile, walking away with his hands shoved into his pockets. He says nothing else to Keith as he leaves. 

Shiro stays still, watching him go, and waits to turn to Keith until he’s sure they’re alone in the hallway. “Keith?” 

Keith is tense all over still, shoulders hitched up towards his ears. He looks up at Shiro and his eyes hint that strange yellow twinge Shiro’s been noticing more and more lately. Shiro fights the urge to pull Keith into his arms and hug him close. That might be pushing the line too much for what Keith wants. 

He settles for resting his hand on Keith’s shoulder, squeezing. “Hey…”

“I’m fine,” Keith says. Too abrupt. “It’s fine. Sorry I was late getting to the gym. You didn’t have to come find me.” 

He leans into Shiro’s touch though and the movement betrays just how badly he wants to be held. Shiro knows Keith’s tells. Keith is an open book, really, for all that people like to pretend he’s impossible to know. Whatever the conversation with the other cadet had been, it hadn’t been a pleasant one. But Shiro hardly needs to be an expert in Keith to see that much. He swipes his thumb gently over Keith’s shoulder. 

“Are you sure?” Shiro asks, keeping his tone neutral. The last thing he wants is for Keith to feel spooked or cornered, or like Shiro’s upset with Keith and not whatever situation he’s unwittingly walked in on. 

“Yes.” 

Keith won’t meet his eyes, but the yellow’s started to fade back to normal. 

Shiro sighs. “It’s okay if you’re not, Keith. You know that right?” He drops his hand from Keith’s shoulder, heart cracking in his chest when Keith makes the softest, nearly-inaudible whine in his chest at the loss of contact. “And you can talk to me about anything.”

“I know,” Keith says. He finally looks up at Shiro properly, his expression mournful. “I know, Shiro. Really… it’s fine. Nothing I can’t handle. It wasn’t anything.” 

Shiro trusts Keith to tell him when he’s ready, and to talk about it with him if that’s what he needs. But the worry simmers in his gut even if he knows he isn’t going to press. In a low voice, he says, “If you’re not feeling up for tonight—” 

“No,” Keith says quickly, interrupting. “I’ve— I really was looking forward to it.” 

He’s dressed in street clothes, too, a tight pair of jeans that hug his cute thighs nicely and a baggy shirt that brings out the color of his eyes. It’s casual, nothing too fancy, but so perfectly Keith. He looks up at Shiro, eyes bright and earnest. Now that Shiro looks, he thinks that Keith might have been fiddling with his hair earlier, trying to tame it for their date. That, more than anything, makes Shiro want to melt. He wants to press Keith back against the wall and kiss the breath from his lungs. He resists, of course, but the desire simmers inside him. 

Shiro bites his lip. “If you’re sure.” 

“I am,” Keith says. “I… I really want to, Shiro. Please.” 

Shiro nods and, together, they head down the hallway. In an ideal world, Shiro would love to reach his hand out and take Keith’s. Or pull him in close. Or kiss Keith right then and there until the tension slides from his shoulders and he stays warm and pliant in his arms. All Shiro wants to do is fix it, to make Keith feel better. There’s nothing Shiro hates more than feeling powerless. 

He knows that Keith struggles with his confidence. He’s seen Keith be plenty cocky around others but knows it’s more a front than anything else. When Keith can be cocky and smug around Shiro, that feels like a hard-won victory. 

And, well, Shiro is stubborn and he hates to lose. He’ll make Keith confident and sure no matter what it takes. 

It takes a few minutes before Keith speaks again. They’re out of the cadet quarters now, heading towards the hangar so Shiro can get his hoverbike. “So… What are we doing?” 

Shiro’s spent a lot of time thinking about it. His usual go-to for a first date is dinner and a movie, but he’s cognizant of Keith’s insistence that nobody actually know that they’re dating. The idea of taking Keith to a restaurant and having to pretend they’re just friends, not playing footsie with him under the table at the restaurant or holding his hand or feeding him bits of food before kissing him across the table is too depressing a thought, really. Similarly, he has a bit of a fantasy about making out with Keith in a movie theater, and he’s sure that’d be off the table with how tense and squirrely Keith tends to get whenever they’re hanging out together in public and somebody else walks by. 

So, the best option that Shiro’s come up with is just take other people out of the equation. “How does a picnic in the desert sound to you? I signed out some hoverbikes for us earlier today.” 

That makes Keith perk up, his eyes bright. “Really?” 

“Really,” Shiro says, delighted to see the first real smile from Keith that evening. “I know it’s not fancy, but—”

“It’s perfect,” Keith says. “Are we racing?” 

“ _Obviously,_ ” Shiro says and laughs. 

-

Shiro hopes their race out into the desert might help Keith relax— the wind in their hair, the sand clouding around them as they swerve neck-and-neck between canyon walls. It’s hard to hear over the roar of the wind as they move together, but he thinks he hears Keith whoop a few times as they cut tight around corners and get dangerously close to one another with their hoverbikes humming, always pushing to go faster. 

Shiro always loves that about Keith— how his competitive spirit mirrors Shiro’s own, how neither of them is going to give up, how despite everything, Keith wants to _win_. He manages to nose out in front of Shiro a few times, but Shiro ends up winning the day without the cliff-diving trick, skidding his hoverbike to a halt at that same spot they’ve visited together a few times.

This isn’t strictly the standard protocol for using hoverbikes— typically reserved for research and fieldwork issued by the Garrison— but Shiro’s not above using his position for a few little perks, especially if it means getting Keith to smile. 

Shiro parks and powers down his hoverbike, hopping off it just in time for Keith to lurch his own hoverbike to a stop. Shiro grins, laughing as he watches Keith yank off his goggles. He holds out his hands to Keith without even thinking about it, smiling wider when Keith reaches out wordlessly and lets Shiro help him down off the hoverbike. 

Shiro can’t help but hesitate, wanting to kiss Keith now that they’re alone but remembering Keith’s sullen mood on their walk out. Keith keeps him from that nervousness, though, tugging once on the lapels of Shiro’s leather jacket.

Keith rises on the tips of his toes to meet Shiro’s lips, kissing him. Shiro can still feel the tension in Keith’s body, but the need for reassurance from Shiro seems to win out over whatever mood he’s in. While he doesn’t quite relax in Shiro’s hold, he does sigh out and open his mouth to Shiro, a silent invitation to deepen it. Shiro does so, curling his arm around Keith’s waist and drawing him in close. 

When Shiro draws back from the kiss, one hand on Keith’s cheek, he just smiles at him, swiping his thumb gently along the curve of Keith’s jaw. Keith blinks up at him, his eyes seeming to glow in the near dark. 

Keith’s so beautiful. Shiro could look into his eyes forever. 

The sentiment must show on his face, sappy and besotted, because Keith’s eyes flicker away and his mouth hints an embarrassed smile. He blushes, holding tight to Shiro’s shoulders, fingers digging in like he’s going to start kneading against him. 

“Hungry?” Shiro asks. “I brought food.” 

“Okay,” Keith says and follows Shiro to his hoverbike. 

Shiro opens up the storage compartment and fishing out their supplies— a big blanket to set out on the ground, a storage container of food, and a few electric lanterns for when it gets too dark. 

He hands the blanket to Keith. “Find us a good spot?” 

Keith seems happy to take instruction and have a mission, stalking around, searching for the perfect spot to set out their picnic. He skims his feet along the ground, knocking aside loose gravel and rocks until he finds a spot that’s suitably flat and smooth. He whips the blanket out and sets it down just as Shiro approaches, arms full of lanterns and food. 

Keith grabs the lanterns from him, setting them out at the corners of the blankets to both weigh it down and light their spot. 

He crawls right into Shiro’s lap as soon as Shiro sits down, his breath coming out in a low, soft keen. Shiro’s quick to wrap his arms around Keith’s waist. 

“Hey, Keith,” he says just before Keith dips forward and kisses him again, a little more insistently this time. Shiro hums out, pleased, and kisses Keith back, letting him set the pace. He sucks on Keith’s bottom lip indulgently, his hands slipping beneath Keith’s shirt to trace up his spine. He pulls Keith in closer when he shivers. 

“Shiro,” Keith whispers once they draw back again. He settles comfortably into Shiro’s lap, pressing his forehead to Shiro’s, seemingly content to stay like that and breathe Shiro in. 

Shiro’s glad for the decision to have their date in the desert. Free from the fear of someone seeing them, Keith is attentive, demonstrative, and physical with him. His hands brush over Shiro’s shoulders and down his arms, setting himself more pointedly into Shiro’s lap. 

“Sweetheart,” Shiro says when Keith kisses him again, squirming and grinding down against Shiro. Shiro’s not hard, but Keith seems determined to change that. “Sweetheart,” he says again when Keith doesn’t stop. He groans. “Baby— Keith. Aren’t you hungry?” 

Keith growls, that low, otherworldly sound he makes sometimes. He nuzzles at Shiro’s jaw next and down his neck, lips and teeth and tongue dragging across Shiro’s skin. Shiro’s a bit used to this, too, whenever they’re alone— how much Keith seems to need to touch Shiro all over, to kiss every inch of his skin. Shiro’s hardly complaining. 

“Shiro,” Keith says, voice gravelly. He paws at Shiro’s shoulders, fingertips slipping to trace the dip of his vee-neck, touching at his skin there and then pressing over his chest. 

This, though, seems to be relaxing him. The tension’s slowly easing from his shoulders. He grinds against Shiro again and when he rocks his hips forward, it’s clear he’s half-hard in his jeans. Shiro can feel the small chub of his dick against his stomach. 

“Keith,” Shiro says in a low murmur. “If you want something, you know you only have to ask for it.” 

He kisses Keith then, cupping his jaw to keep him from drifting away and attacking his neck instead. Keith growls into the kiss and it sinks into a pleased moan when Shiro sucks on his tongue. Keith is insatiable. 

“But,” Shiro adds when he draws back, mouth brushing against Keith’s, “you know I can’t go as many times as you.” 

“You can touch me,” Keith says and wriggles. 

Shiro contemplates the suggestion but, really, it’s not like he’s going to refuse. He plucks at Keith’s belt, undoing his pants enough to ease them down mid-thigh, exposing him. Keith moans quietly when Shiro reaches for him, cradling him in his lap, one hand on his back supporting him while the other curls around his dick, tugging once. Keith’s cock is a perfect handful, twitching in Shiro’s grasp as he squeezes and starts milking him. 

Keith lets out a low groan and, finally, Shiro’s favorite sound— something like a purr— kicks up in his chest. He melts against Shiro, seeming to finally relax, and rocks up into Shiro’s hand. 

“Look at you,” Shiro whispers in his ear as he lets Keith fuck up into his hand. “You’re so beautiful. You’re so good, Keith. So perfect for me.” 

It makes Keith hiccup, shuddering apart in Shiro’s arms, and it takes hardly any time at all for him to come. Shiro strokes him through it, squeezing and twisting his hand over the perfect handful of Keith’s cock, Keith’s come spilling out over Shiro’s fingers, slick and sweet across his knuckles. 

As Keith rocks through it, Shiro whispers praise against his ear, knowing it’ll only tip him further into that feeling. Keith lets loose a low mewl, stuttering out around his purrs. 

Keith gulps down air, shuddering apart in the wake of his orgasm. It crests over him so quickly, and Shiro can’t help but feel a bit jealous over how quickly Keith can get hard, how fast he comes, how soon after he’s come before he’s ready to go again. But Shiro does plan on making this a good date for him, to bring him home and treat him right well into the night. 

Shiro deeply regrets that he didn’t think ahead for this. He should have guessed that Keith would want to fuck him out here. Well. Their second date, then. 

“Did that help, Keith?” Shiro asks once Keith comes back to himself. 

Keith purrs as he nuzzles at Shiro’s neck, licking over his skin. Shiro knows that if Keith were to pull back, his eyes would be that strange yellow again, his teeth glinting. Shiro still can’t explain what it is about Keith that makes him do that, but Shiro doesn’t concern himself with it. 

Just like with all things, if Keith has something to tell him, then Shiro will listen. Until then, he’s not going to force Keith to talk about it. He’d rather just make him feel good and banish whatever misery he holds inside himself. 

But Keith does seem more relaxed now, thinking of Shiro now rather than whatever Shiro walked in on in the hallway. 

Keith grabs at Shiro’s hand, still sticky with his come, and makes the softest trill when he sees the mess he’s made. It makes Shiro laugh, delighted and a little moony, watching Keith play with the mess. He slides his fingers over Shiro’s, tracing his knuckles and his calloused palm. 

Then Keith starts licking him clean. It makes Shiro moan, both from the feeling and from watching him. Keith dutifully sucks each finger into his mouth, cleaning it with a swirl of his tongue. He stares into Shiro’s eyes when he takes two into his mouth, sucking pointedly, his tongue twisting. 

Shiro goes a little breathless from watching him, Keith’s hands cupped tight around Shiro’s wrist to keep his hand there, sucking on his fingers. Feeling daring, Shiro presses his fingers in deeper, dragging over Keith’s tongue. Keith nearly chokes, but then trills, easing forward and bobbing his head like he would around Shiro’s cock, suckling. The purr kicks up again and Shiro moans, eyes falling shut. 

“Fuck, Keith,” Shiro says. “Have mercy.” 

Keith keeps going until Shiro’s hand is cleaned. He draws away, purring his delight, and nuzzles into Shiro’s hand, sighing. “Smells like me.” 

“Huh?” Shiro asks, feeling fucked out just with watching Keith. 

Keith hums, kissing the center of Shiro’s palm. He looks up at Shiro, his eyes still bleed yellow, almost catlike with how intensely he watches Shiro. “Shiro… You too?” 

“Oh,” Shiro whispers, aware that he’s half-hard in his jeans. He breathes out and kisses Keith, almost apologetically. “I’m okay right now. I’d rather— when we get back. I want to treat you right.” 

Keith pouts when he draws back but doesn’t press it. He kisses Shiro on the mouth, then his cheek, and then shimmies his jeans back up to cover himself, buttoning up and fixing his belt. He’s almost coy about it, his cheeks flushed. He’s so cute. 

Shiro nuzzles at his jaw and kisses over his cheek. “You’re so pretty.” 

Keith grumbles, blushing deeper. But Shiro knows how much he delights with the compliments, even if he’s not great at accepting them yet. It’s okay. Shiro takes that as a challenge, too.

“Food?” Shiro asks.

“Food,” Keith agrees.

Shiro fusses with the container, pulling out the different foods— nothing fancy, just what he could get from the commissary or student store. Keith looks delighted anyway, especially when Shiro pulls out his favorite brand of pineapple juice. 

“You brought so much,” Keith says, laughing. “Are you trying to feed an army?” 

“Just you,” Shiro says with a wink. “I’ve seen how much you can pack away.”

Keith laughs, twists the cap on his pineapple juice, and takes a long sip. He looks downright carefree now and Shiro’s grateful for it. He looks so cute like that— in that strange space between smug and shy, his eyes glittering and his smile small.

Shiro digs a hand into his pocket and pulls out his PADD, flipping open the camera feature and snapping a picture before he can think better of it. Keith blinks at him in surprise, clearing the spots from his vision thanks to the flash, and tilts his head.

“Huh?” 

Shiro brings up the picture to show Keith, candid and sweet, still ruddy-cheeked and hair a mess. “Just was thinking that you look so cute. I want to save it to remember it.” 

Keith studies himself in the picture, frowning, and then leans in to kiss Shiro, sloppy and insistent. 

They end up snacking on various bits of the food Shiro’s brought after that, side by side as they watch the last dredges of sunlight sink away, the electric lanterns sensing the increasing dark and flickering brighter in turn. Keith cuddles up to Shiro’s side, head on his shoulder. 

Occasionally, Keith snags Shiro’s hand and presses another kiss to his palm, inhaling deeply. Shiro wonders if he really does smell like Keith, but there’s something cute about the possessiveness of it. It’s just as well. Most of the time, he really does feel like he’s Keith’s. 

“Let me try some,” Keith says at some point, snagging Shiro’s hand just as he plucks up a piece of fruit from the fruit salad. Instead of picking up his own piece, he ducks his head down and curls his lips around Shiro’s fingers, licking up the piece of fruit and sucking pointedly on Shiro’s fingers. 

And just like before, Shiro is half-hard again. He groans, pulling his fingers away only to pick up another piece of fruit and feeding it to Keith. Keith trills appreciatively as he suckles on Shiro’s fingers, and Shiro knows that Keith’s being a tease, and he loves the way Keith’s confidence can shine. He wants to foster that whenever possible.

He knows that Keith doesn’t believe that he’s amazing. But Shiro knows he is in all ways. He plucks his fingers from Keith’s mouth, dragging his thumb sweetly across Keith’s pouting bottom lip. 

“Okay date so far?” Shiro asks. “I know it’s nothing fancy.”

“I never needed fancy,” Keith says with a shrug, crawling in closer so he can kiss over Shiro’s hand, laving his tongue slowly down the length of his fingers, tentative but purposeful. He looks up at Shiro, eyes blazing. “I just need you.” 

“You’ve got me, Keith,” Shiro says and Keith purrs low in his throat. He lurches forward as he kisses Shiro, hungry and possessive. Shiro loves it. 

Shiro feels Keith start to shiver as they kiss and he lifts his hand, rubbing at Keith’s bare arm. He hasn’t dressed well enough for the night in the desert. It’s a cute date outfit, but not equipped for the chill of a desert night. 

“Cold?” he asks against Keith’s lips. 

“No,” Keith says, shivering. 

Shiro can’t help but smile. “Are you sure?” 

“Yes.” 

“Didn’t you grow up in this desert?” Shiro asks, teasing as he kisses up Keith’s jaw. “You should know it can get cold at night, especially at this time of year.” 

Keith rolls his eyes and says nothing. He grunts when Shiro bites playfully at his ear. He whines when Shiro draws away, however, his lips quirked down into a pouty frown. 

“Shh,” Shiro says as he unbuttons his leather jacket, slips it off, and drops it down over Keith’s shoulders. He closes it tight around Keith’s body before he can protest. 

“There you go, my poor desert baby,” Shiro says, cooing obnoxiously. 

Keith wrinkles his nose, blushing. “I’m not a desert baby.”

“Desert baby,” Shiro sings. “Cold desert baby.” 

Keith laughs, shoving at Shiro’s shoulder. “Stop!” 

Keith laughs so rarely. Shiro always treasures when he can manage to pull one from Keith. He grins, tugging playfully on the sleeves of the coat, then plucking up the first set of buttons. He buttons them off for Keith so Shiro’s jacket hangs off him like a cape. 

There’s something warming, seeing Keith wearing his jacket like that. Keith looks pretty in moonlight, especially when he’s blushing. 

Keith turns his face, pressing his nose down against Shiro’s jacket and inhaling. Shiro watches him do that and feels that same pleasant warmth squirm inside him, something curling and possessive. There’s something primal about seeing Keith wear his clothes, to see him so happy to be doing so, to be surrounded by Shiro’s scent. 

“Guess we won’t get to do this together for much longer,” Keith says after a long pause. 

He sits next to Shiro still, although not pressing as tight. He fiddles with the edge of Shiro’s coat before he wraps it around himself tighter, his hair falling in his eyes. 

“What, getting teased because you’re a desert baby?” Shiro asks, knowing what Keith means but aiming for something lighter. 

Keith’s mouth flickers with a smile. “I really hope that nickname doesn’t stick.”

“You don’t like it?” 

Keith’s smile grows, his blush deepening. He shrugs. From Keith, that might as well be a ringing endorsement. There’s part of him that likes it, part of him that wants to encourage Shiro without putting voice to it. He wants it, but he’s afraid to ask for it.

“Baby,” Shiro whispers in his ear. Keith’s smile grows. “Sweetheart.” 

Keith turns his head and kisses him, and it’s much sweeter this time— slow and lingering, like he wants to sink into Shiro. Shiro holds him closer, smiling as he kisses him. 

“Anyway,” Keith says when he draws away. “I didn’t mean the teasing.” 

Shiro watches Keith fiddle with the jacket, feeling his cheek flush pink as he drinks Keith in— how sweet he looks, sitting there in the moonlight with Shiro’s coat draped around him. 

Keith licks his lips and asks, “Are you excited for Kerberos?” 

“Of course,” Shiro says. “It’s been on my mind. I mean— well. You’re right. We won’t get to do this for much longer, huh?”

Keith smiles but it’s a melancholy smile. “No more stargazing.” 

“For now,” Shiro says. “I’ll be back. You know I will.” 

Keith nods. “I know. Just… waiting.” 

“I know,” Shiro says, playing with the lapel of his jacket draped over Keith’s shoulders. 

Keith’s jaw clenches, like he wants to say more but is swallowing it down. Instead, he scoots closer towards Shiro. “I want another picture,” Keith says. He nods towards where Shiro’s PADD lies abandoned. “Of both of us. I want… I want a picture.” 

“Okay,” Shiro says easily, always ready to give Keith what he wants when he voices a desire. He pulls up the camera and angles the datapad so that they’re both in the frame. Keith presses his cheek to Shiro’s, his eyes blazing and determined. “This okay, Keith?” 

Keith nods, just barely, staring up defiantly at the camera. “I want a picture that proves we’re together. Even if it’s just for us.” 

Shiro’s smile softens just as the flash flickers, brightening them and capturing their image. He turns his head then and kisses Keith’s cheek before he snaps a second picture, sure he’s captured Keith’s perfect look of surprise. 

Keith looks at Shiro and says, “I want a picture so I can still see you even when you’re up there.”

“Oh,” Shiro whispers. “Oh, Keith.” 

He kisses Keith then. He can’t help it. Keith makes a soft sound, something between purr and whimper, and pulls Shiro in closer. Kerberos is a constant shadow over them and not for the first time, Shiro mourns that it’d taken him so long to act on his feelings for Keith. All that time he hesitated before acting, he should have realized that Keith was just not sure how to reach out in turn. 

But they’ll have time once he gets back, he reminds himself. 

When he pulls back from the kiss, Keith’s eyes are flooded with tears. It makes Shiro startle, a small, mournful sound punching up his throat. “Oh, Keith—” 

“No, I’m fine,” Keith says, insisting, his voice wobbly. “I just… I’m so happy for you. But I’m going to miss you so much, Shiro.” 

Keith doesn’t protest when Shiro reaches for him, pulling him into his arms and rubbing his back. He sinks into Shiro’s arms, sniffling, holding tight.

“Oh, Keith,” Shiro murmurs into his hair, curling himself around him like that might protect him against the night chill, all the swirling thoughts inside him. “I’m going to miss you, too. So much. You have no idea.” 

Keith sniffles again, shoulders trembling as he shoves his face up against Shiro’s neck. His breath comes out in shaky little wobbles, damp against Shiro’s skin. He’s desperately holding back his tears, trying his hardest not to cry. Shiro wants to tell him it’s okay, wants to hold him through it, but he knows as soon as he suggests it, Keith will dismiss it. He feels tears spring to his eyes, too.

If someone had told him years ago that someday he’d be nearly crying at the thought of leaving Keith behind to pursue his dream, he’d never have believed it. For so long Shiro knew nothing that could stand in the way of his dream, of everything he was striving for. 

What hurts most, but makes Shiro feel like he’s flying already, is that he knows Keith would never ask him to stay. The thought would never even occur to him. 

But the way Keith clings to him, Shiro knows every buried fear inside him— that fear that he’s not worth missing, that he’s always easy to leave behind. 

“I’m coming back,” Shiro says into Keith’s hair. 

“And then we’ll fly together,” Keith says. 

Shiro thinks of the bracers around his wrists and says nothing. Keith knows about Shiro’s disease and yet never lets it stand as a barrier for Shiro. 

Shiro smiles and hugs Keith tighter, burying his face into his hair and breathing him in. 

Keith squirms closer, like he’s trying to absorb into Shiro’s body. “I know you’ve been trying to help me talk with other people, make friends… I just. I fucked up. I’m no good at it and I don’t know if I can do it if you’re not here with me.” 

Keith tightens his hold on Shiro. There’s something tender in the way Keith says it, like he expects Shiro to be angry. But Shiro knows that Keith’s trust in him is a gift and he knows that Keith would never try to anchor him down for his own needs. He’ll let Shiro go because he wants Shiro to be happy. 

“Keith,” Shiro says. “That’s not true—” 

“You don’t know what they say about me, Shiro. About you.” 

“You’re an amazing person, Keith,” Shiro says, brow furrowing at the words, thinking of the cadet in the hallway. “You deserve to be known and you deserve to have friends. There are people who will see this about you.” 

“Sometimes it feels like you’re the only one,” Keith says, a quiet admission. 

“I know,” Shiro says, not wanting to dismiss those feelings— he knows them well, and he knows Keith knows them too well. “You deserve the world, Keith.”

Keith snorts like that’s a joke and then wheezes when that just makes Shiro hold him tighter. 

“You’ll… you’re really going to miss me, too?” Keith asks after a pause. 

Shiro draws away from the hug to look into Keith’s eyes, meeting his gaze easily. He brushes the hair from Keith’s face, tucking the loose strands behind his ears. 

“Every day,” Shiro says. It hurts to think that Keith still can’t believe it, that a small part of him still thinks he’s not worth it. 

It just means Shiro must try harder. He brushes the hair away from Keith’s face, smiling at him. 

“It’s… hard to believe,” Keith says. “Sorry.” 

“I know, Keith.” 

Keith shakes his head. “Just— how could you miss _me_ when you’re going to be up in space? Doing everything you’ve ever wanted to do? You’re not going to have time to think about me.”

“Bullshit,” Shiro says. He smiles when it makes Keith startle— Shiro so rarely swears— his eyes widening as he stares up at him. Shiro laughs, although it’s a near heartbroken sound. “I’ll think of you every day. First thing I think of when I wake up, last thing when I go to sleep.” 

“Come on,” Keith protests weakly, but with that same tone as before: like he wants it but is afraid to ask for it. 

“Of course. What am I going to do without my baby?” It makes Keith blush deeper. It feels good to say it. He rubs Keith’s arms, coaxing more warmth into his shivering body. “Keith. Baby.” 

Keith looks up at him then, eyes big and reflecting the light of the stars. Shiro can hear the shift in his own voice, the moment it goes from teasing to earnest, the sound of Keith’s name on his tongue. He’s sure Keith can hear it, too. 

He’s called Keith this before, a few times. It feels more weighted now, more purposeful. 

“Baby,” Shiro says quietly, testing it and watching the way Keith’s blush deepens, the way his eyes darken. “I’ll be back before you know it.” 

“You promise?” Keith asks. 

“On my life.” He lifts his hand, brushing the hair away from Keith’s face. He lingers, letting his hand cup Keith’s cheek, his thumb rubbing over the tear trails there, cleaning them away with the circle of his thumb. 

Keith turns his face away, rubbing the heel of his palm over his eyes and then wiping his nose. He sniffles once, face splotchy and eyes red. But he’s still beautiful, still unbearably sweet. Shiro can’t remember the last time anybody ever cried for him.

“Okay,” Keith says, accepting with a small nod. “I’m holding you to that.” 

“Good,” Shiro says. 

Keith clears his throat, blushing as he reaches for the PADD, flipping through the pictures there. He gives his nod of approval, his fingertips ghosting across the picture of them together, his fingers lingering over the image of Shiro’s smiling face. 

“Good?” Shiro asks. 

“Good,” Keith says in a quiet voice, his smile sweet. 

-

They get back to the Garrison late, parking up their hoverbikes in the hangar. Keith’s still wearing Shiro’s jacket— an insistence for the ride home— and Keith looks satisfied and quiet. He even holds Shiro’s hand for a brief moment, just before they exit the hangar and head down the quiet hallways. 

He’s relaxed and Shiro’s grateful for that, grateful to have been able to help. Even if only a little.

“Should I walk you back?” Shiro asks.

Keith snorts, blushing even in the dark, and peeks up at him through his bangs. “You’re not going to invite me back to your place instead?” 

“Oh—” 

“You promised,” Keith says. 

Shiro chuckles, heat igniting in his belly. “Yeah. I guess I did. Come on.” 

They sneak through the halls of the Garrison, moving towards the officers’ quarters. This late at night, the hallways are still lit, although dimmed, and they don’t encounter anyone on the walk back. 

The closer they get to Shiro’s room, the more relaxed Keith gets. He loops his arm through Shiro’s and leans against him, cuddling up against him and nuzzling at his shoulder. Keith’s purr licks up his throat, a soft, wispy sound that makes Shiro all the more eager to get to his room and get Keith into his bed. 

When they reach the door to Shiro’s quarters, he has to fumble through his jacket even while Keith wears it, digging through the pockets for his keycard. Keith seems to think that’s funny, squirming away and teasing, making it difficult for Shiro to get a hand on him.

“Keith—” 

Keith giggles, looking overly pleased with himself, and Shiro would do anything, anything in the world, to keep him looking so carefree and happy. Instead of grabbing for his keycard, Shiro grabs for him, hands cupping Keith’s ass and then dragging him in.

“Got ya.” 

“Guess so,” Keith says, eyes sparkling. “What are you going to do about it?” 

“Oh, I wonder,” Shiro says with a grin. Keith smiles back, wide and sweet, his eyes dark and promising. Shiro leans down a little, just a little, to test. 

Keith doesn’t wait for him to hesitate, surging up to kiss him with a happy trill. Keith’s always so enthusiastic in kissing him, like every time is the first time, like he can’t believe he gets to, like he wants to treat each one as precious. It makes Shiro shiver, curling his arms around him and holding him close. He kisses Keith back, matching that enthusiasm.

Keith trills again, kneading his hands into Shiro’s shoulders and deepening the kiss. He makes it dirty with a lick of his tongue and a drag of his teeth across Shiro’s mouth. It leaves Shiro gasping and breathless, eager to feel more, to taste more, to just lick into Keith’s mouth and suck on his tongue. Keith purrs. 

Shiro loses himself in that kiss, unaware of anything else around them. Keith touches him, kisses him, sighing out. 

But then Shiro feels Keith tense up just before the sound of a door opening punches through the quiet of the hallway. Keith wrenches away from Shiro, but not soon enough. When Shiro opens his eyes, Adam is there, staring at them in undisguised shock. 

“Adam—?”

“ _What_ are you doing?” Adam asks, which, really, Shiro can’t help but think is a dumb question, considering it’s likely obvious what he and Keith were just doing.

That’s like Adam, though. They were friends when they first joined the Garrison, and it was an almost-maybe-something, Shiro thinks. But Shiro’s ambition got too in the way of even considering a relationship with Adam. They went on one date and Shiro let it fizzle out. 

It still feels a little awkward every time he sees Adam. All the more so now, considering Shiro knows the residual feelings— knows that Adam still cares. 

Shiro opens his mouth to say something, to soothe things over, to reassure, but Keith’s gone unbearably still beside him. Adam looks disappointed— Shiro knows that expression well— and it’s undisguised on his face. 

When Adam takes a step towards them, still looking shell-shocked, Keith _growls._

Shiro’s used to the sounds Keith makes. If he’s honest, sometimes he hardly notices that Keith’s doing what others might objectively think is odd. But Shiro sees the way Adam reacts to the sound, his eyebrows shooting up in surprise as Keith visibly bristles and steps out in front of Shiro. 

Adam looks like he doesn’t know what to say. But that also has always been Adam’s way, in Shiro’s experience— having to think deeply about what he wants to say until it all boils over and comes out far more vitriolic than he intends. He looks between Shiro and Keith and Shiro’s sure that he’d much rather be anywhere but here, having just walked out to the two of them making out in front of Shiro’s door, Keith wearing Shiro’s jacket and now growling at Adam like he’s infringing on someone’s territory. 

“It’s none of my business,” Adam says, looking uncomfortable and like he’d very much rather not be saying even this much. “But you— Takashi, you know you shouldn’t be doing that out here.” 

Shiro flinches. He can’t help it and can’t hold it back. He _knows_. He knows that if someone other than Adam had caught them, it’d be a lot of trouble for them both. He knows why Keith’s insisted on keeping them a secret— not for fear of anything, but concern for protecting Shiro. Shiro’s not an idiot. 

But he got carried away. 

Keith growls louder when Adam continues to hover between uncertain and disappointed. “Don’t look at him like that,” Keith snaps, voice deep and husky, his eyes starting to bleed yellow as he grits his teeth. “Don’t— don’t _look at him._ ”

“Takashi,” Adam begins and trails off when Keith hisses. Legitimately hisses. Shiro’s a little stunned to hear it, too.

“Shiro didn’t do anything wrong!” Keith snaps, riled up now. Shiro thinks it likely isn’t anything to do with Adam, but with what it means for them to be caught like this. Keith grips the jacket around him tight, his eyes burning. “Don’t look at him like that!”

“Keith,” Shiro says. “It’s fine—” 

Keith growls louder at Adam, shoulders hunching up. “I know what you all think and what you’re saying about me— and I don’t care! I don’t care what you think of me! But don’t _look at Shiro_!” 

Adam wrinkles his nose, his lip almost curling back, but he’s too pragmatic to rise to any sort of bait, especially not the bait strewn out by a visibly upset Keith. A visibly upset Keith whose eyes are undeniably yellow now. Shiro’s not sure if Adam’s noticed it yet, but Shiro knows that he needs to get Keith out of this situation— before Adam starts to pay attention. 

“Keith,” Shiro says again, touching his shoulder. “Keith—” 

Adam looks unspeakably alarmed. Shiro remembers the few times he’s talked about Keith with Adam— _he has a temper,_ or _I suppose he’s not used to talking with people._ It’d been Adam’s way of saying that Keith is too feral, too wild, too not good enough. Never said in those words, that wasn’t Adam’s way, but a quiet judgement, a quiet suggestion, _Takashi, you can’t change him._

And Shiro knows that it’s all Keith can hear, all the time, whenever someone he doesn’t trust speaks like this. Keith’s always waiting to hear what someone secretly thinks of him, always ready to accept that it’s always the worst thing. That nobody likes Keith, that nobody believes in him. 

Adam’s disappointment and judgement are obvious even in its silence. If anything, the silence makes it all the worse. _You know you shouldn’t be doing that out here_ , not _What the fuck is wrong with you, Takashi? Him? Really?_

But Shiro knows that’s all Keith can hear. It’s obvious in his reaction— how he looks any second from punching Adam or crying. 

Shiro shoves his hand into his jacket pocket, finds his keycard, and swipes it. His door chirps as it unlocks and Shiro grabs Keith by the back of his collar and drags him in, calling a quick goodnight to Adam before the door shuts behind them. 

“Baby,” he says, turning towards Keith immediately. “Baby, it’s okay,” Shiro says, trying to soothe him. He cups Keith’s hips. “Sweetheart, it’s going to be okay— Adam isn’t going to say anything.” 

Keith spits at the mention of Adam’s name on Shiro’s lips. He growls low, gripping Shiro tight. “I— I know what they all say about me. What everyone says about me. This is what everyone always talks about—!” 

“Keith,” Shiro says, his heart breaking at the implication of it all. He thinks again of that cadet in the hallway, the things he must have said to Keith, the things that everyone always says to Keith or about Keith when they think he’s not listening, like he wouldn’t be aware of the rumors or even just the side looks. 

Keith makes a mournful sound, ducking his head, his shoulders hitching up. He curls in on himself, looking miserable. 

“I know I’m not good enough for you, okay? I know! I know they all think that!” Keith says. “All I do is cause you trouble—” 

“Adam isn’t going to say anything,” Shiro says again.

“I don’t give a fuck about Adam!” Keith says and then cringes, whimpering. When he looks up at Shiro, his eyes swim with tears, a strange contrast to the bright yellow. “Shiro,” he whispers. “I’ll protect you no matter what.” 

“I’m okay, baby,” Shiro says quickly. “I’m fine.” 

Keith shakes his head, slinking closer to him. His hold is possessive as he clings to Shiro, hugging him tight, burying his face against Shiro’s chest. He goes still, just holding him, his breath coming out in little wisps, almost more of those growls. When he whimpers, it just makes Shiro hold him tighter. 

“Shiro,” Keith whispers, clinging. Just needing to be near to him, it seems, for how desperately he holds tight, how he whimpers at the slightest shift Shiro makes. 

Shiro drops his head down, burying his face in Keith’s hair and breathing him in. “I’m here, baby.” 

They hold still like that, Keith trembling. Shiro knows it isn’t about Adam, knows that it could have been anyone who saw them, could have even just been the threat of someone who saw them, that would trigger Keith into this reaction. It’s something Keith’s been holding onto for a while, Shiro knows, and yet it still breaks his heart.

“I don’t care what other people think,” Shiro says. “I just care about you.”

Keith whimpers, shaking his head and seeming to cling to Shiro all the tighter. His nails dig into Shiro’s shoulders, near painful. Keith’s still shaking, like he’s about to tremble apart. 

“They don’t know you,” Shiro says. “They don’t know you like I do. And I know you, Keith. And I know you’re worth everything. I know you’re perfect.” 

“I’m not,” Keith says, pained. “Wh- what they say—” 

“Whatever they’re saying, it’s not true,” Shiro says. He doesn’t care what they say, whoever they are. But it’s clear it’s been weighing Keith down. 

“I’m not good enough,” Keith says in a quiet voice. 

Shiro nuzzles into Keith’s hair. He hopes that he exudes calmness, safety, that he can reassure Keith as he holds him. He takes a deep breath and lets it back out again. 

“Keith,” he says. “I love you.” 

Keith rips himself away from Shiro’s hold so he can look up at him, his eyes wide. It’s an odd look— the yellow of his eyes all the wider as he stares at Shiro, his mouth open. Those are fangs, Shiro knows. Claws digging into his shoulders. He has no idea why or how this happens to Keith, but it doesn’t change any of it.

He stares into Keith’s eyes. “I love you, Keith.” 

Keith’s mouth flops open. And he lets out the softest little whine, a sound so fully inhuman that it seems to shock even Keith. But the words hit him, and he seems incapable of speaking. He grabs at Shiro and holds on tight, the softest keen twisting out of his throat. 

Shiro smiles. “No matter what anyone else says, about you or about me, remember that, okay? I love you.”

Maybe it’s far too early for him to say this— it’s only their first date, one that’s ending in disaster— but Shiro knows it’s true. And they’ve done everything out of order, anyway. Why not say it now, when it’s _true_? 

Keith seems pleased, even as he stays fully nonverbal. He grabs at Shiro with a low growl, his touch possessive as he turns Shiro and throws him— literally throws him onto the bed. Shiro gasps, shocked, but can barely manage a sound before Keith dives at him and kisses him hard and bruising, his _fangs_ dragging over Shiro’s lip and making him moan. 

He grabs at Keith, but Keith hardly responds, growling as he kisses Shiro hard, like it’s the only thing he can do, like it’s all that’s left to him. 

All Shiro can do is go along for the ride, groaning as Keith lays full-bodied over him, kissing him with brutal neediness. He outright claws at Shiro’s shoulders, trying to drag him up closer. 

“Sweetheart,” he whispers into the kiss just before Keith bites at his tongue with a gasping whimper. 

Everything about Keith’s actions spell desperation— and possessiveness. Somehow, it makes Shiro shiver, wanting more. Wanting to reassure him and drag him near. 

“You’re good, Keith,” he whispers between kisses, gasping for breath as Keith nips and bites down his neck, sucking marks against him. His fangs are too sharp, nearly breaking skin just like the first time. Keith whimpers at the words. Shiro bumps his mouth up against Keith’s ear— slightly more pointed, he thinks, or it’s a trick of the light, and whispers, “You’re perfect to me.”

Keith sobs out a low mewl. And then, softly, he hisses, “ _Mine._ ” 

Before Shiro can say anything in response, Keith jerks back and rips Shiro’s shirt off. Somewhat literally. One moment Shiro’s wearing his vee-neck, and the next, Keith’s claws are literally dragging through it, shredding it right down the middle. 

“Oh—” Shiro says. It’s hot. Shocking, but hot. 

“Mine,” Keith says again, his eyes burning. “Need—” 

“What do you need?” Shiro asks when Keith doesn’t complete the thought, pawing at Shiro’s body as he fumbles for the belt, his claws sharp but not sharp enough to get through the leather. 

“Need you,” Keith says, panting. “Need you to smell like me. Need _you_. Mine.” 

“I’m here,” Shiro says, eyes wide. He catches Keith’s hands and kisses his knuckles. “Baby, just breathe. You’re okay. It’s okay.” 

Keith blinks at him, and it’s clear that despite the strange behavior, it _is_ Keith. He’s himself, if overwhelmed. He whimpers, his eyes wide as he stares at Shiro. 

“Shiro,” he says. 

“I’m here,” Shiro says again. “What do you need, sweetheart? Whatever you want— I’m here.” 

Keith whimpers again and it hits Shiro right in the gut. He sits up and reaches for Keith. Instead of kissing him, though, Keith ducks his head and nuzzles hard at Shiro’s neck, licking up the column of his throat and nestling close, snuffling softly as he moves. Shiro’s not quite sure what he’s doing, only that it involves a lot of nuzzling and rubbing his cheek against him.

“Smell like me,” Keith mumbles, which Shiro can’t make sense of. “I just— _mine._ ”

Shiro breathes out. “I’m yours, Keith.” 

That’s the right thing to say. Keith squirms closer, wriggling, and by the time Shiro realizes he’s trying to strip without pulling away from Shiro’s neck, he’s already halfway out of his clothes. Shiro helps him with it anyway. 

Shiro undoes his belt buckle for good measure, shimmying out of his clothes so that they’re both naked in Shiro’s bed. 

Keith mewls softly, nuzzling against his neck. Shiro’s not sure if he should be more worried about Keith, but once he hears him start to purr, that reassures him. He runs his big hands up Keith’s back, feeling him arch and sigh Shiro’s name. 

Shiro smiles when Keith looks at him again. Keith’s hand finds his, guiding it up to cup his face. Shiro does so obediently, cupping Keith and swiping his thumb across his cheekbone. It seems to steady Keith, to help him relax. His breathing comes in slower and deeper now as he stares at him, less desperate but no less heated. 

“You’re mine,” Keith says, and there’s something about the way he says it, like he has no compulsion against it, like it’s something ancient and instinctive within him. “I’ll protect you.” 

“I know,” Shiro says because he’s not sure what else to say to it. Somehow, the vow doesn’t feel like suffocation, the way anyone being overly protective of Shiro has made him feel in the past. It’s Keith. He’s only ever been safe in his hands.

Keith stares at him. Not quite waiting, Shiro thinks. But assessing. Anybody who calls Keith impulsive doesn’t know him, doesn’t know how deeply observant and thoughtful he can be, how strategic he’s had to be his entire life. 

Shiro waits but Keith makes no move, staring at him. It’s not quite a stand-off, but Shiro says, “You know I’ll give you anything you want, Keith.” 

Keith frowns then. He leans his cheek further against Shiro’s palm, his hair spilling out and ghosting over Shiro’s knuckles.

Shiro murmurs, “You just have to ask for it.” 

He watches Keith process the words and take a deep, steadying breath. Keith sits up on his knees and reaches for Shiro, his hands resting on his shoulders.

“T- tell me again,” Keith says.

Shiro’s answer is immediate. “I love you.” 

Keith takes a little breath and then sinks into Shiro’s arms, the hands on his shoulders coiling back to wrap his arms around Shiro’s neck. 

Keith’s kiss is demanding, just on the edge of _primal_ , like Shiro’s very soul is calling out to Keith, like Keith is guiding him back home. Keith settles in Shiro’s lap, grinding down, just like on their date, and Shiro sucks in a sharp breath, feeling like he’s surrounded by Keith. He wonders if he does smell like Keith. He wonders if Keith can even actually smell that. 

Shiro feels flushed, his heart racing when Keith finally lets him breathe. “Hi, baby.” 

“Hi,” Keith says back, voice cracking. His fingers dig in tight to the back of Shiro’s neck and hold firm. Shiro watches Keith swallow. “Shiro—” 

“Mm,” Shiro agrees and accepts Keith’s kiss when he presses in close again. 

The first few times they kissed, that first night together, Keith was all bravado but looking for guidance. This time, there’s more power to it, like Keith is guided forward by some feral force. He leads the kiss, deepening it and demanding Shiro’s attention. His claws kiss down Shiro’s skin, leaving pink trails in their wake. He grinds his hips down in Shiro’s lap, coaxing him slowly to hardness, rekindling him anew. 

He sweeps his tongue into Shiro’s mouth when it opens around a pleased gasp. Shiro kisses him like that, slow and gentle, licking at Keith’s bottom lip and smiling in pleasure when Keith does the same. When Keith starts whimpering, it feels like the best praise, like Shiro’s doing exactly what Keith needs. 

His hands run up Keith’s back, feeling how he shakes in his arms, how good he feels nestled in his lap. 

He kisses the breath from Keith’s lungs, leaving him a soft, panting mess in his arms. Keith lets out a soft mewl when Shiro sucks on his bottom lip, letting his teeth drag. And it feels good, so good, when Keith tips closer still, nails digging into his skin as he kisses him deeper, desperate for more, panting against Shiro’s mouth.

He's so squirmy, so eager, and Shiro never wants to stop. He feels a rush of warmth erupt inside him when Keith shimmies closer and Shiro feels the slide of his half-hard cock against his stomach, _feels_ the way a whimpering, enthusiastic Keith is responding just to Shiro’s kisses. 

He whispers Keith’s name, licking into his mouth, and smiling more when Keith moans, starting to rock his hips forward. He’s seeking friction, Shiro thinks, his hands sliding down Keith’s back and gripping his ass. That makes Keith cry out in surprise, nearly biting down on Shiro’s mouth at the suddenness of his shifting, his cock fully hard against Shiro’s stomach. 

If Keith wants more, Shiro really needs to get some lube. 

“Wait,” Shiro breathes.

“No.” 

The petulant response makes Shiro laugh. He kisses Keith harder. “I just mean— let me grab—” 

Keith growls then, like the idea of being separated from Shiro is intolerable. He paws at Shiro, shoving him down so he sprawls out on his back and Keith rubs insistently against him, Shiro’s cock sliding between Keith’s cheeks. Keith gives a pleased sound, a mewling keen, and moves with vigor. 

“Keith,” Shiro gasps. 

Keith crawls up the length of his body, growling Shiro’s name before he kisses him slow and sloppy. His hands reach up above Shiro’s body, fumbling around for the drawer beside Shiro’s bed. 

Shiro stops paying attention to anything but the feeling of Keith’s lips against his, the delightful drag of Keith’s cock against his stomach. He reaches down blindly, stroking him off. It makes Keith sigh a pleased breath.

“Look at you,” Shiro says with his own sigh. “God, how’d you get to be so pretty?”

Keith garbles a response, leaning towards nonverbal again as he moves, rutting against Shiro’s stomach, fucking up against his hand. 

“You’re perfect,” Shiro gasps as Keith paws at him with one hand. “You look so good above me, baby.” 

“ _Mine,_ ” Keith says and Shiro can only nod helplessly as Keith rears back. It’s only then that Shiro realizes that Keith’s riding his own hand, fucking down as he preps himself with sloppy, aimless abandon.

“Fuck—” Shiro says, gasping. 

Keith barely spends any time on himself, yanking his fingers out and grabbing Shiro’s cock instead. He slicks him off, stroking him in luxuriously slow, agonizing pulls. 

“Baby, should I—”

“ _Mine,_ ” Keith snaps, stroking him off.

Unsure what else to do, Shiro runs his hands over Keith anyway, brushing over his arms and along his sides, squeezing his hips and floating down over his thighs. He squeezes Keith’s ass again just to see if he’ll keen (he does), and then moves one hand to press against his belly. 

He pauses, perhaps too teasingly judging by the way Keith frowns at him. It’s worth it for the way Keith arches when Shiro’s hand presses down over his cock, taking it in his hand again and squeezing. 

“Want to smell like you, too,” Keith says, tucking his face against his own shoulder and inhaling, like he can still feel Shiro lingering on his skin. He frowns, looking disappointed. 

“ _Baby,_ ” Shiro says. Quieter still, he says, “Keith. You’re so pretty.” 

“No,” Keith grumbles, and the quick dismissal, even when Keith seems half-crazed with some kind of needy desire, snaps Shiro’s heart in two.

“It’s true,” Shiro says. “You’re the most beautiful person I’ve ever known.” 

Keith rocks his hips up, his cock sliding against Shiro’s stomach again. It feels good against his skin, the sweet slide of it, the beading of Keith’s precome. 

“Keith,” Shiro says. “If you want to smell like me—”

Keith turns his eyes on him, bright and unrelenting, undeniably catlike. Shiro grabs at their clothes, pulling up his jacket. 

Keith stares at it and then lets out the softest trill, grabbing it and pulling it on. Shiro’s jacket looked perfect on Keith before, but it’s heavenly now with the way it settles over his shoulders, slumping down his naked body and framing him. 

He looks unbelievably adorable like that, Shiro thinks, the coat too big around his shoulders, the sleeves ending just before his knuckles. It fits loose and it shrouds his naked body as he sits there before Shiro on his knees, beautiful and hot and just _cute._

Keith straddles his lap, his cock hard against this stomach, hair in disarray, wearing Shiro’s jacket and looking otherworldly, near purple in the dark of his room. 

Shiro’s never been more in love. 

“Damn,” Shiro breathes. “You’re so pretty.” 

Keith ducks his head, ears turning plummy-red with the force of his blush. That’s cute, too, Shiro thinks. Unbearably pretty. 

He reaches out, sliding his hands beneath the jacket and cupping Keith’s hips. He tugs once, not forcing, but guiding Keith forward. Keith swallows, blushing still, but crawls to him and accepts Shiro’s kiss when he presses it to his mouth. 

“Shiro,” Keith says, his voice graveled out when he draws away again, always pausing to let Shiro breathe. He nuzzles at Shiro’s jaw, his breathless sounds ghosting over Shiro’s ear. “I want you.” 

He squirms closer, body dragging across Shiro’s cock. Keith’s hand is a fumbling touch around Shiro, coaxing his cock back to wedge between Keith’s cheeks, pressing up against his hole. 

Shiro groans at that, shuddering. He grips Keith’s hips tight and catches his mouth in a sloppy kiss. Keith grips him tight, his hands brushing over Shiro’s bare shoulders, the loose sleeves of Shiro’s own jacket dragging across his skin. He looks good like that. He’s going to look even better riding Shiro. 

Shiro wants to wear his jacket tomorrow and smell Keith lingering there, sex and sweat and the desert night. 

Keith grows impatient with the waiting. He grips Shiro’s cock, drags himself over him, and sinks down right onto him. It’s barely all of Shiro, just the head of his cock sinking into that clutching heat. It makes them both moan, though, Shiro shuddering beneath Keith, his hands digging tight against his hips.

“Keith—” 

“ _Mine_ ,” Keith gasps out, and then wriggles his hips down, working Shiro inside him. He braces his hands on Shiro’s shoulders, working himself down. 

Shiro’s jacket slips off his shoulders, settling in the well of his elbows, the fabric pooling around them as Keith shimmies his hips backward and forward, working Shiro’s thick cock inside himself. Despite the prep, Keith’s still so _tight_.

Shiro bites down hard on his bottom lip, holding himself as steady as possible, unwilling to come so quickly.

“Okay,” Keith pants when he’s only halfway down on Shiro’s cock. He rocks his hips up. “Shiro. _Shiro_. Please—” 

Shiro wraps his arms around Keith, sliding his hands up his back and rolling his hips up. It makes Keith arch, moaning Shiro’s name and then moving with force after that. He fucks down onto Shiro’s cock, riding him, his thighs flexing, his hands clenching around Shiro’s shoulders. The fabric of the coat ripples around him as he shrugs it back up onto his shoulders, his hair a wild mane around him, some of the strands clinging to his sweaty forehead. 

He’s the most beautiful thing Shiro’s ever seen, resplendent and gorgeous. Shiro pulls Keith down and rocks into him, fucking up into him as he seeks his mouth for a kiss. 

Keith gives it to him, whimpering into his mouth as he goes. They move like that together, finding their pace. 

Shiro knows he’s dangerously close to coming, trying to hold it off as long as he can. He focuses on Keith, his hand falling to wrap around his cock and stroking him in time to the movement of their bodies. When Keith fucks himself down onto Shiro’s cock, Shiro strokes his hand hard over Keith’s cock, squeezing around him. 

Keith’s a crying mess after only a few moments of that, panting and moaning Shiro’s name. 

“Perfect, baby,” Shiro moans as he moves with him, mesmerized by the way he looks, the flex of his stomach, the shift of his hips, the way he looks swallowed up in his jacket. “Beautiful. God, Keith, you’re so good. Such a good boy.” 

“ _Shiro,_ ” Keith mewls. 

“I’m yours,” Shiro says in a whisper. “Yours, I’m yours—” 

Shiro’s free hand moves down Keith’s back, cupping his ass. He holds Keith steady as he fucks up into him, frantic and shifting his hips to find the right angle. His fingers play at Keith’s hole, feeling the spot where Shiro enters him, where Keith stretches wide to accommodate his cock. 

Keith seems to like it, squirming and gasping out Shiro’s name again. He clenches around Shiro’s cock. Shiro shifts his hips again and rolls up. He feels the moment he finds Keith’s prostate, watching as he goes taut as a bowstring, his breath hitching in his throat.

“Yeah?” Shiro asks.

“Yeah,” Keith pants, nodding. His grin is luminous. 

They move more forcefully after that, Shiro determined to hit at that same spot, Keith overcome with pleasure. Shiro loses his pacing around Keith’s cock but it hardly matters— he strokes over Keith’s prostate and Keith clenches around him, shuddering.

Keith rides him like that, his claws pricking against Shiro’s shoulders as he moves. He rocks his body, rolling with him, a beautiful curve of a man above him, his hair in his eyes and his fangs digging deep into his bottom lip as he holds back his pleased whimpers.

His hands slide down over Shiro’s chest, kneading. He rides Shiro like that, fucking down against his cock, his claws dragging over his sensitive skin. When he grazes over Shiro’s nipples, it makes him shudder. 

Shiro bucks up and Keith writhes, gasping. He shifts so much, Shiro’s jacket dragging over his hips, that Shiro’s forgotten PADD slips out and thumps hard against Shiro’s stomach. 

Shiro reaches for it to set it aside and Keith growls.

“Take a picture of me,” he demands. 

Shiro looks up at him. “Oh—” 

“Take a picture,” Keith says again. “Proof— _Me._ I’m yours. You can look at me.” 

“Keith,” Shiro whispers, hushed, already flipping open the camera. He poises it to capture the full length of Keith, wearing his jacket, hair in his eyes. Shiro stares up at him and Keith purrs quietly as he stares down at him, letting Shiro snap the photos of him as he moves. 

Keith fucks down against him more purposefully now, moaning for Shiro. He curves his body around Shiro, like he could cover him, like he could make every inch of Shiro simply his own. His nails drag over Shiro’s nipples again as he paws at his chest. 

It’s too much. Shiro gives a few shallow thrusts, manages to garble out a warning, coming with a low moan. Keith sighs out his happiness, rolling his hips down, milking Shiro as he comes inside him. They move like that, rocking together in little bursts. He kneads Shiro’s chest, pressing all his weight down against him. 

Shiro tries to catch his breath, tries to keep moving, but he’s overwhelmed. Keith smells like sex, but he can catch his own cologne wafting off the collar of the jacket Keith’s still wearing. 

Keith ducks down to nuzzle into his hair. He’s purring again, finally. Shiro tilts his head up and catches Keith’s mouth in a kiss, swallowing Keith’s pleased moans and his sweet smile. 

“Shiro,” Keith growls once they catch their breath. He’s still hard, squirming down against Shiro’s softening cock. “I want more—” 

It makes Shiro choke. 

_Teenagers,_ Shiro thinks with only a small amount of dread. There really is something to be said about their stamina. 

“Keith,” Shiro says. “God. Baby. Give yourself a moment to breathe.” 

“I’m hard,” Keith says and then slides off Shiro with startling efficiency. He stares at Shiro, laid out and pliant on his bed. He growls low. “Gonna make you mine.” 

Shiro blinks up at him as Keith crawls over the bed, searching for the lube. The words simmer inside Shiro and then burst to life, desire slamming through him. His cock is spent and still he feels that if anything were to get him hard, it’s Keith fucking into him. 

“Oh,” he whispers when Keith gives a triumphant trill, picking up the lube. “Y- yeah, Keith. Yeah.” 

“Yeah?”

“Come here,” Shiro says, reaching for him. Keith purrs in delight as he sinks down and kisses Shiro sloppy. 

Before Keith can focus on doing that, though, Shiro rolls them over, pressing Keith down into the bed. He looks perfect like that, lying out on the bed, his hair a dark halo around him, Shiro’s jacket pooling loose around his shoulders and open beneath him. 

Shiro ducks his head, nuzzling at Keith’s neck, mimicking him. Keith gasps in shock, but then his chest starts vibrating in a purr, the loudest Shiro’s ever heard. Shiro sucks and bites at his neck, marking all over him the way Keith has him. He licks and sucks at his skin, dragging his tongue pointedly.

Keith grips him hard, nails digging into his back. He’s clawing at him and it feels good, makes Shiro shiver as he lays worship to Keith’s skin. 

“Shiro,” Keith growls and sounds like he can barely handle it, like he’s about to both sob and moan for it. 

Shiro licks his collarbones and Keith whimpers out a low mewl. 

“Do you smell like me?” Shiro asks. 

Keith’s a mess beneath him, wearing his jacket, lips kiss-swollen, Shiro’s come leaking out of him. 

“Yes,” Keith says, earnest and sweet, his pupils blown wide. His eyes are yellow still, but his pupils are so blown out that Shiro can barely make out the pretty purple of his irises. Shiro strokes a hand down his chest and over his belly, avoiding his cock. Keith bites his lip and whimpers. 

He looks at the camera again and Shiro’s quick to pick it up and snap photos of Keith posed on the bed, holding the jacket open and smiling up at him, like he’s proud of Shiro, like he knows that Shiro will look at these later, much later, and feel warm all over. 

“Do I smell like you?” Shiro asks as he takes one last photo. 

Keith growls and lurches up, nuzzling hard at Shiro’s neck. “Not enough.” 

He drags his hands over Shiro, squirming to get closer. 

“Not enough,” he says, softer this time. “Mine. My mate.” 

The word zings through Shiro and he gasps, unsure why the word punches him so deep in the gut. He clings to Keith and lets Keith bite at his neck, hard enough to leave marks but not to break skin. 

“Keith—” 

He gasps again as Keith bites at his clavicle, hands clawing down his chest. He’s covered in Keith’s marks— bites and claws— and he feels his cock stir between his legs as Keith touches him. He pushes Keith back, though, ignoring his low growl of confusion. He hands the camera to him and smiles. 

“Take something of me, too, babe,” he says and settles between Keith’s legs. 

“Shiro—” 

“Going to make sure I smell like you, too,” Shiro says and sucks on the head of Keith’s cock. He barely has to bob his head to swallow him all, settling Keith’s cock on his tongue, suckling gently. 

Keith yowls, and Shiro knows Keith would grab at his hair if he weren’t holding the camera. It takes Keith a moment, but Shiro hears the satisfying click of the camera pointed at him. He looks up with a small smile around the cock in his mouth, just for Keith. Something for Keith to look at later, when Shiro’s up in the stars. 

Something for them both— so they can remember each other. Proof, Keith said, that they’re here and belong to each other. That he’ll come back to Keith. 

Shiro watches Keith as he swallows around his cock, sliding his tongue over the hard length of him. Keith keens low, panting already even as Shiro goes slow, teasing, patience. He slides his tongue along the underside of Keith’s cock. He bobs, then twists his tongue around the head, suckling. 

Keith makes the most perfect noises. Shiro’s never going to get tired of hearing it. He’s purring right now, tossing the camera aside haphazardly in favor of gripping Shiro’s hair tight and forcing him down. 

Shiro laughs around his cock and swallows harder as Keith makes a sound, hitching and pleased, his fingers twisted up in Shiro’s hair. He holds Shiro like that, possessive and sure, and that makes Shiro feel like he’s floating away, anchored down by Keith’s sure hands on him.

Let him be sure. Let him be possessive. Let Keith stake his claim like this. If anything, that’s what Shiro wants: for Keith to _know_ , to never doubt, that Shiro is his. That no matter what, Shiro loves him. 

That’s what Keith deserves. 

He deserves to know that he is beautiful, that he’s loved, that he’s wanted— that he’s cherished and desired. Shiro swallows around him and suckles, taking him in deeper. 

“Shiro,” Keith says, panting out a soft mewl. 

Shiro licks at the head of his cock in little kitten licks, just like Keith does for him. He’s addicted to the taste of Keith. He closes his mouth around the cockhead, suckling. 

Satisfied with the taste of him on his tongue, Shiro backs off enough to let the head of Keith’s cock smear across his lips. He feels the glide of spit and precome and smiles to himself, turning his head so that Keith’s little cock drags over his cheek. It makes Keith gasp, clenching tight in Shiro’s hair. 

“That’s it, sweetheart,” Shiro says, pillowing his lips down the length of his cock, the way he knows Keith likes, dragging his tongue and lips and breath across his sensitive skin. “Just like this, Keith.” 

Keith whines, rocking his hips forward, his cock dragging across Shiro’s lips and cheek. 

“Mark me,” Shiro says. “Make sure I know I’m yours.” 

He punctuates the words with a flick of his tongue, dragging down the length of him, nosing at his hip to tease, kissing at the crease of his hip, his hands squeezing Keith’s inner thighs. It makes Keith purr, groan in frustrated bliss. He rocks forward. 

He cups Keith’s hips and coaxes him up to thrust into his mouth. Keith trembles, crying out Shiro’s name and grabbing at him, fucking into his mouth. He looks so cute like that, panting, moaning Shiro’s name. His cock twitches against Shiro’s lips as Shiro licks the very tip of him. 

As Keith rocks into him, Shiro lubes up his fingers and teases himself open, ready for when Keith wants to fuck into him. He doesn’t doubt that Keith will get hard again after this, and probably with alarming quickness, too. 

Shiro’s body aches just thinking about coming three times in one night. His bracers are a heavy weight on his wrists, reminding him of his limitations. But in this, he’ll do anything he can, everything only for Keith. And Keith makes him want to do everything, to be everything. He wants only to make Keith feel good. 

When Keith comes, it’s with a gasping cry. His come hits across Shiro’s face, marking him with the shiny ropes of his come, across Shiro’s lips and his cheeks. Shiro closes his eyes against the feeling of it, smiling and moaning his encouragement, squeezing Keith’s hips as he ruts forward, smearing his cock through the mess he makes, dragging it over Shiro’s cheek. 

He's sure he must look a mess and he delights in it, delights in the feeling of being covered in Keith. 

Keith’s panting through it, shuddering apart. He whimpers and collapses towards Shiro, already kissing him before he’s come down from orgasm. He grips Shiro tight, not letting him get away. 

He licks over Shiro’s face, cleaning him. Shiro laughs, but accepts it, accepts that he must smell like Keith. 

Keith whimpers as he draws back and seems to, finally, realize what Shiro’s hand is doing. He’s twisting two fingers inside himself, rudimentary and more to keep him grounded. He’ll be able to take Keith without issue, he knows. He’ll love it. He knows Keith will go crazy for it, too. 

He kisses Keith before he can open his mouth and gasp at the sight of him. So, instead, Keith just moans, melting against Shiro.

Shiro can taste himself on Keith’s tongue. It makes him shiver. 

“Ready to feel me?” Shiro asks. 

“Me?” 

“Mm,” Shiro says, dragging Keith forward by the collar of his own jacket, kissing him sweetly and then leaning back, bringing Keith with him. 

He withdraws his fingers from inside himself so he can loop his leg around Keith’s slim hips, pulling him in closer with a small smile. He pets his hand down Keith’s spine. He’s sure he must make quite the sight beneath him— sweaty, breathless, covered in Keith’s marks. 

He takes up Keith’s fingers and guides them to his mouth. Keith opens his mouth obediently, sucking on his own fingers just like he has Shiro’s. Shiro groans, mournful that he’s not the one to feel it, to have Keith sucking on his fingers and staring at him with that familiar intensity. 

But it feels even better when he pulls Keith’s fingers from his mouth and guides it down to where Shiro’s lubed up and waiting. Keith slips two fingers into Shiro easily. It makes Shiro sigh, arching for him.

He drags Keith down and kisses him, licking into his mouth. Keith whimpers, twisting his fingers inside Shiro.

He’s panting from it, as if he’s the one being fingered open, like he can’t believe he’s touching Shiro like this. Maybe he can’t. 

“Go slow, baby,” Shiro says, sighing. “Take your time. You need to get hard again if you want to fuck me.”

Keith whimpers. He ducks his head, nuzzling at Shiro’s neck. 

He bites down hard this time. His teeth drag hard over his skin. It makes Shiro suck in a sharp breath and arch, his hands twisting up in his own jacket, gripping Keith tight. He rocks his hips down in slow little bursts, coaxing Keith’s fingers in deeper.

“Shiro,” Keith says around a moan.

“That’s right, baby,” Shiro says, nuzzling at his ear. “You’re doing so well. You can fuck me good, can’t you?”

Keith growls. 

“That’s right,” Shiro says, agreeing. “That’s right, babe. I know you can. You’ll be so good. Always so good for me.” 

Keith whimpers. 

“You’ve thought about this?” Shiro asks as Keith thrusts his fingers deep inside Shiro, led inward by the lube and spit, by how relaxed Shiro is beneath him, eager for him. He doesn’t need this, really. He could just take Keith and slip him inside his body, but he’ll be patient. He’ll let Keith feel this, too. He’ll walk him through this. 

“Shiro…”

“Thought about fucking me?” Shiro asks. “Like how I fuck you? Think about laying me out on the mat and taking what’s yours?”

“ _Yes,_ ” Keith growls. 

Shiro pets his hand up Keith’s side, curling around his waist and drawing him down closer towards him. 

“Do you want me like this? Or should I ride you?” 

Keith gasps like he didn’t expect the choice, lurching forward to kiss Shiro sloppily. Shiro smiles as he kisses him back, clenching around Keith’s slim fingers. Keith squirms in closer and, of course, he’s already hard again. Fucking teenaged stamina is going to be the death of Shiro. 

He draws back from the kiss with the softest coo, swiping a thumb over Keith’s lip, pressing in closer so his thumb drags across one of Keith’s fangs. Keith keens and closes his mouth around Shiro’s thumb, licking once at the thumbpad. 

“Baby,” Shiro whispers. “Baby, you’re so good, aren’t you? Good for me?”

“Yes,” Keith says, panting. 

“Then come here,” Shiro says in a low murmur. “Fuck me, Keith. Make me yours.” 

Keith snarls at that, the sound punching out of him. He reaches for Shiro, nails digging in deep to his shoulders. He seems overwhelmed for a breath, unsure what position he wants Shiro to be in. 

Shiro tugs him down easily, settling Keith more firmly above him so that Keith is pressing down, hovering. Keith mewls quietly as he stares down at Shiro beneath him, his jacket hanging heavy off his shoulders. Shiro smiles up at him, his expression soft. 

“There you are,” Shiro whispers, running a hand down Keith’s chest and quivering belly. “You’re so pretty, baby.” 

“Shiro,” Keith says. Beneath his palm, Shiro feels Keith start to purr. 

“There’s my good boy,” Shiro says. “Ready to fuck me?” 

Keith nods, eyes wide. 

“Just take it slow,” Shiro says, soothing, running his hand up and down Keith’s purring chest. “Really feel me, baby.”

Keith nods in a jerky little motion and shifts closer. Shiro drops his hand, curling his hand around Keith’s little dick and guides it forward, pressing him up against his hole. Shiro lifts his hips, widening his legs to make room for Keith. 

It’s an easy little slip forward as Keith sinks into him, giving a choked little sound at the feeling of it. Shiro smiles, staying still and letting Keith ease forward, explore the way Shiro’s body opens to him. When Keith darts his eyes up to stare at Shiro, mouth open, Shiro just smiles at him. 

“There you go,” Shiro says, lifting his hand to curl in Keith’s hair. “Good boy.” 

Keith purrs and Shiro just drinks him in like that. He lets himself notice all the things that should be alarming but are only ever _Keith_ to Shiro: the yellow of his eyes, the slit of his pupils, the claws digging into Shiro’s hips, the fangs threatening to pierce his lip, the strange point to his ears, the way his blush deepens more purple than red. The purring, the trilling, the growling, the hissing. It’d be impossible for Shiro to not notice these things, but just as he can notice them, he isn’t sure what to do with them.

It hardly matters, either. It’s Keith. He loves Keith and he’ll always love Keith— all strange, hissy sides of him. 

Keith moans once he’s seated inside Shiro, one little roll of his hips burying him inside Shiro. “Do I need—” Keith asks, moaning. “Do you need me to— to let you adjust?” 

Shiro doesn’t laugh but he feels like he’s soaring. He shakes his head and squeezes around Keith’s cock just to make him gasp. “Fuck me, Keith. Make me yours.”

Keith doesn’t need to be told twice. He ducks his head with a moan and fucks forward, thrusting into Shiro. He sets a heavy, brutal pace from the offset, too quick and almost punishing. He’s desperate and Shiro wants to laugh, wants to cry, wants to kiss Keith until his jaw aches. He’s good, he’s so good, and it feels good. Keith moves above him in a jerky half-motions, overwhelmed. 

Shiro cups his hip and corrects his angle and pace, whispering Keith’s name as he guides him into fucking him properly. Keith takes direction well, eager to please and eager to make Shiro feel good. He drops his hands down onto Shiro’s chest again, bracing himself there as he rocks into him, kneading at Shiro’s pecs. 

Shiro moans, louder than he might normally, to fuel Keith onward— loud and glorious beneath him, encouraging him, luxuriating in the attention and feel of him. Keith’s cock pushes inside him and drags back out again only to thrust back. Shiro rocks his body to meet him, his own cock dragging across Keith’s stomach, seeking that friction. 

“Go on, Keith,” Shiro pants, encouraging. “Just like that, baby—” 

Keith moans, fucking him harder. His cock twitches inside Shiro and it feels bigger, somehow, like it’s swelling inside Shiro. 

Shiro groans, riding along with Keith, arching when Keith’s hands knead against his chest, when his cock fucks inside him, when Keith gasps and mewls above him. His nails dig deep against Shiro’s chest and it just makes Shiro moan Keith’s name loudly. 

Keith’s cock really does feel bigger, somehow. Shiro can’t make sense of it. Keith fucks into him and Shiro feels like he’s getting fuller and fuller. He moans, squirming, spreading his legs only to wrap them around Keith’s waist, heels pressing into the small of his back to bring him in closer. 

They move like that, panting for each other, Shiro getting louder and louder as Keith grows more confident, stroking into Shiro. If anything, his cock only swells larger. 

“Shiro,” Keith whimpers. 

Shiro moans out Keith’s name in turn, encouraging, rolling his hips to meet him. 

“C- can I…?” Keith asks, panting. “Can I come inside you?”

Shiro does laugh this time, not unkindly, and hooks his hands around the back of Keith’s neck, hanging on tight to him. 

“Wasn’t the point of this to make me smell like you?” Shiro asks. “To make me yours? Come in me, Keith. I want to feel you.” 

He squeezes around Keith’s cock, coaxing him, and after that it takes only a few more frantic strokes before Keith tenses up, nails digging in sharp into Shiro’s chest as Keith gasps and comes. 

Shiro feels the warmth flood through him and moans his encouragement, rising to meet Keith in a sloppy kiss. Keith nearly collapses against him, his cock so thick inside Shiro, spreading him open, coming so deep and so long that Shiro wonders if it’s possible to overflow. 

He holds Keith up just before he collapses fully, panting, his eyes catlike and unfocused. He kisses Keith gently, soothing, whispering his name. Keith whimpers, his purr rattling in his chest, and nuzzles in closer. 

They kiss like that, waiting to catch their breaths, and Shiro feels boneless and relaxed, warm and sticky in the best way. He pets his hands over Keith’s body, warmth flooding through him when he looks at him, trembling above Shiro, buried inside him and wearing his jacket and nothing else.

He wants to remember this for the rest of his life. He wants to remember this in the cold, dark nights out towards Kerberos. He wants to come back home afterwards and hold Keith close and never let him go.

He plays with Keith’s hair, smiling up at him, besotted and stupid. “I love you so much, Keith.” 

Keith whimpers and hugs Shiro close, burying his face against Shiro’s chest. Shiro’s smile softens and he pets his fingers down his back, letting him take the time he needs. 

Keith mumbles something but it’s too faint for Shiro to hear. Shiro kisses the top of his head and smiles. 

They drift like that, Shiro holding Keith close. Keith stays buried inside Shiro, even once he softens. Shiro has no doubt he’ll get hard again and can probably fuck Shiro again if he’s not too sensitive. But Shiro’s spent for the night, he thinks. 

_Insatiable,_ he thinks fondly. 

-

He’s not sure how much time goes as they drift, as he waits for Keith to come back to himself. Eventually his breathing and heartrate slow, his breaths soft against Shiro’s chest. 

When he finally looks up at Shiro again, he looks clear-eyed.

“Hey, you,” Shiro says with a small smile. “Welcome back.” 

Keith blinks and lurches upright, taking stock of where they are— eyes sweeping over Shiro. Shiro must be quite the sight: covered in bruises, marks, and scratches. He feels sore but he hardly cares, smiling up at Keith. 

He reaches his hand up, adjusting the collar of his jacket, tugging it up to cover Keith’s shoulder better. 

“Shiro,” Keith says in a quiet voice. 

Shiro watches realization dawn in Keith. He snatches up the PADD left discarded on the bed. Keith scrolls through the photos, frowning, his brow crinkling. He stares and stares for a long time.

“… Is that how I look?” Keith asks. “When I’m like this?” 

Shiro cranes his neck to glance over the photos— Keith in similar states of wildness, his eyes burning as he gazes up at Shiro behind the camera. It makes Shiro flush a little, his cock giving one little stir thinking of the way Keith looked, the way he moved, the way he sounded. 

Keith’s still inside him, though soft. Shiro loops a leg absently around Keith’s hips, keeping him in place, keeping him from moving too far away. Keith’s eyes flicker as he registers the movement, gulping down, the softest purr rumbling in his chest before he swallows it back down. 

“Shiro,” Keith says. “This— I’m _weird._ ” 

“You aren’t.” 

“I don’t know what’s wrong with me,” Keith mutters.

“Nothing is wrong with you.” 

Keith gives him a sharp look, tossing the PADD aside as if disgusted. He ducks his head, pressing his hands over his face with a low growl. 

“How can you want me?” 

Shiro makes a soft sound, pushing up onto his elbows and then sitting up properly. He reaches for Keith, touching him gently as if expecting Keith to jerk away. But of course he doesn’t. He sinks forward, craving and needing Shiro even while he thinks he should be denying himself. The way Keith tortures himself hurts Shiro too much. He makes a soft sound. 

Keith keeps hiding his face. “You can’t say I’m not being weird. I know it’s weird. It’s _weird._ ” 

“Keith—” 

“Why haven’t you really asked me about this? Why haven’t you— you never ask me about anything,” Keith says, peeking out at Shiro from between his fingers.

Shiro hums. “I know you’ll tell me when you’re ready. And if you don’t want to tell me, I’m not going to make you.” 

“It’s not that I don’t want to tell you,” Keith mumbles. “I don’t— I don’t know why I do this.” He looks down. “I mean— everything else, too. I didn’t… I didn’t mean to get so mad last night.” 

“I know,” Shiro says. “It’s okay.” 

He strokes his hand along Keith’s side, trying to soothe him. Keith does relax a little now that he’s certain Shiro’s not about to start freaking out at him. 

“I wanted you to smell like me,” Keith grumbles. “That’s weird.” 

Shiro knows that if he tells Keith it’s not weird, that Shiro doesn’t think it’s weird, Keith just won’t believe him. He settles for rubbing Keith’s back.

Keith grumbles and looks at him. “W- why don’t you think I’m weird?” 

“Because you’re Keith,” Shiro says. “And you’re not weird to me no matter what you do.”

“What if I licked you?” 

“You did already,” Shiro says while Keith turns pink. “And even then.” 

“You should think I’m weird.” 

Shiro shrugs. “Maybe I’m weird for not thinking you’re weird, so we can be weird together.”

Keith frowns. Shiro shrugs again and wriggles his hips just to see if it’ll distract Keith. It makes Keith suck in a sharp breath, blush brightening across his cheeks. 

“Why can I smell you,” Keith says in a low mumble. “I shouldn’t be able to, but—”

“Do I smell like you?”

Keith blushes at that, looking away. Eventually, he nods. 

“Do you smell like me?” 

Keith nods again.

“Then that’s good,” Shiro says. “That was the whole point, right? To make me yours.” 

Keith mumbles something. 

_Mate,_ Keith called him, deep in whatever strange fit he’d been in. Shiro still remembers the sound of it and what it felt to hear it. He’s not complaining about any of this. Far from it. 

Keith breathes out. “I… I don’t know what I did to des—” 

Shiro doesn’t let Keith finish the thought, leaning in to kiss him sweetly. Keith sighs, sinking in closer with a low purr. Shiro licks his lip and cradles him close. He keeps the kiss sweet, touching Keith gently. Like he’s precious. Because he _is_ precious. 

When they part, it’s only to tip their foreheads together, breathing one another in. Shiro swipes his thumb along Keith’s jaw, keeping him close. 

“Sweetheart,” he murmurs. 

Keith nods, just barely. “For you, maybe.” 

“Only for me,” Shiro says. “Mine.”

Keith shivers. He bites back a low, pleased purr. 

“Yours,” he whispers in agreement. 

“And I’m yours, too,” Shiro reminds him. He smiles when Keith nods. Even if he looks disbelieving, it’s a hard-won victory for Keith to accept it now in his right mind, broken loose from whatever primal urges captured him last night. 

Keith sighs. 

“Mm?” Shiro hums. 

“I just… I’ll miss this,” Keith says. “Being with you. I get to have you and now you’re going away.” 

“Only for a little while,” Shiro says. He smiles. “I’ll miss it, too. I’ll miss you every day, remember?” 

Keith nods. “You— you always say those things so easily.” 

“It wasn’t always,” Shiro says. He can remember a time when it was hard for him to admit to any feelings or thoughts. Really, he’s become an expert at hiding those things. But, with Keith, he always wants to be honest. “But it’s easy with you.”

“Why?”

Shiro laughs. “Probably because I love you.” 

Keith makes a sound, like he’s shocked. Maybe he is, to hear it without the strange possessiveness of the night before. He blinks at Shiro, a blush blooming across his cheeks.

He’s so pretty. He’s so wonderful. 

“I’m sorry I haven’t said it back,” Keith says in a low voice. “I— I do. I do, too. I just—” 

“Saying it is hard,” Shiro says and Keith sighs out, nodding his head. Shiro smiles and takes his hand, squeezing. “You don’t have to say it for me to know it, Keith. It’s okay.”

He knows that, for someone like Keith, it’s a big thing to say— hard to say. He knows that no matter how much Keith feels it, he also feels a surety that he’s no good for Shiro, that Shiro deserves better. That putting voice to it gives it too much power— will make it too painful if it were taken away from him. 

Shiro doesn’t blame him for it. 

“When you’re ready to say it, I’ll listen,” Shiro says. He plays with Keith’s hair, smiling for him. “Why don’t you spend the night here and in the morning, we can go get some breakfast together?” 

“Really?” Keith asks.

“Will you get in trouble if you’re not back for lights-out? Will your roommate notice?”

“He won’t,” Keith says. “Only you notice me.” 

Shiro makes a sound.

Keith shakes his head. “Sorry. I didn’t mean that as sad as it sounds.” He slumps. “I don’t— I don’t want to worry you. Just. This place… you’re the only one who likes me.” 

Shiro cups Keith’s cheek, smiling sadly as Keith closes his eyes and leans into it.

“It’s okay, though,” Keith says. “All I need is you.” He opens his eyes to look at Shiro, his eyes perfectly dark and looking only at Shiro. “So you need to come back soon. Okay? Come back to me no matter what… okay?”

“Okay,” Shiro says and cups Keith’s face with both hands, leaning in to kiss him. “Yes, Keith. No matter what.” 

“A- and I’ll be here,” Keith says, cupping his hands over Shiro’s. “I’ll wait for you. And— and I’ll say it.” 

“Yeah,” Shiro agrees with a smile. “Yeah, Keith. Sounds like a plan.”

Keith nods, his eyes sweeping over Shiro, studying every mark he’s made on Shiro’s body. Shiro doesn’t need the physical marks to know that he belongs to Keith, that somehow in so short a time, Keith’s found his way into Shiro’s heart and lodged there. 

_Mate,_ Keith had called him. Maybe weird to others but, to Shiro, he likes the sound of it. He likes the pleasant weight of Keith in his arms. 

He smiles at Keith and murmurs, “Come here.” 

He pulls Keith down against him, swallowing Keith’s purr with another kiss, full of love.

**Author's Note:**

> This story is part of the [LLF Comment Project](https://longlivefeedback.tumblr.com/llfcommentproject) (including the [LLF Comment Builder](https://longlivefeedback.tumblr.com/commentbuilder)), which was created to improve communication between readers and authors. This author invites and appreciates responses, including:
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